


Sweet

by orphan_account



Series: Sons of War [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Genital Swap, M/M, Magical Accidents, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix has an "oopsie" moment and gives himself tits and a vagina. Carver is... understanding. Purely an absurd, senseless excuse to write some cunnilingus and many multiple orgasms. No redeeming qualities, just porn. Can be read as part of the Sons of War series or as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

“Oh Maker, don’t come in!”

Too late. On the threshold of their quarters, Carver squeezes his eyes shut, but he’s already caught a glimpse: Felix naked from head to toe and bent over on one elbow at the washbasin, his other hand lost somewhere between his legs. He squints slightly, just enough to catch the blurry suggestion of Felix snatching up a towel to hold in front of his chest.

“Sorry. Um, I can come back?”

Felix sighs. “Never mind. I suppose the damage is done.”

“Damage?” Carver opens his eyes fully and shuts the door behind him. Felix is standing forlornly in the middle of the room, cradling the towel to his chest, face flushed pink—from arousal or embarrassment, Carver isn’t sure. Maybe both.

“I, um, might’ve been working on a spell, and it sort of… backfired.”

Carver snorts and comes closer. “Is it a lust spell, because I don’t think we need any help in that department.”

“It’s… no. I’ve been working on some physical alteration magic with Harper. _Without_ blood magic, don’t look at me like that. No demons were harmed in the making of this… uh… hang on a minute.” He ducks away as Carver reaches for the hem of the towel. “What are you doing?”

“Just looking,” Carver pouts. “Go on, what exactly is this spell? And why are you casting it on _you_ and not on her?”

“I would never cast something on someone I hadn’t thoroughly tested,” Felix says, affronted. He holds the towel tighter and Carver puts his hands behind his back obediently. “Besides, this isn’t something I intended. It’s meant to be a spell to help with, er, sexual issues. She’s had a few patients come to her with problems and she asked for my help.”

Carver is horrified. “She’s had people asking to fix their, what, limp dick problems? What is she, twelve?”

“She’s twenty-two,” Felix answers patiently, “and no, that’s not it specifically. I can’t really say—patient confidentiality and all that. But I’ve got a few leads, and this one has some, ah, debilitating side effects.”

Carver peers at him. Felix is still flushed and his voice is a little shaky, his words nearly tripping over themselves to escape his berry-red mouth. He’s been biting his lips. And his pupils, when Carver leans in, are so wide they nearly eclipse the rich brown of his irises. Carver licks his lips. “So I wasn’t far off with the lust spell, then.”

“It’s not _supposed_ to—ugh. You’re teasing me.” Felix turns and presents his back. It’s a very lovely back, long and toned, and striped with old, faded scars that Carver knows the feel of by heart. His eyes fall to Felix’s arse, lean and narrow and equally familiar. He wants to squeeze it companionably, but he refrains.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It was just… unexpected. Why didn’t you tell me you were working on something like this?”

“It’s a private matter. I didn’t really think it was my place to share.” He shifts his weight restlessly, and the tilt of his hips is mouthwatering. Carver reaches out and brushes his fingers along the supple curve of his spine. Felix melts. “Carv…”

“Sorry. I can go, honestly. But. It looked like you might need a little help with… with that.”

Felix bows his head. “It might wear off at any moment,” he warns.

“That’s fine.”

“And I, erm… I’m still a, a _man_ , I just…”

“I know.” Carver firms his touch, resting his hand on Felix’s hip. “Listen, we don’t have to—this isn’t a weird _thing_. I just wanted to help you out, make you feel good.” His voice drops self-consciously as he adds, “I love _you_ , Fee, regardless of the package you come in.”

“Mmm.” Felix tilts his head, an invitation Carver is happy to take. He lays a warm, open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck, scraping lightly with his teeth, and Felix sighs in appreciation. “Love you too, you big lug.” Carver nibbles a little harder in retaliation. “Ow!”

“Hush.” He licks the spot, soothing, and he smooths his palms over Felix’s hips. They don’t feel any different, still lean and sharp-boned. “Why don’t you put that towel down, love?”

Felix exhales and drops the towel in the same moment.

He turns about, sliding free of Carver’s hands, and Carver lets his eyes wander leisurely down his body. He’s still rawboned and dusted with dark, coarse hair, but now his flat chest swells into soft, small breasts, weirdly out of place on his masculine frame but not unpleasant to look at. His nipples are still brown, but the areolas are now larger and spongier. When Carver brushes one with the tips of his fingers, it buds readily under his touch. Felix’s mouth drops open just a little.

“Good?” Carver murmurs.

“Mmhn. Yes.”

Lower, Carver follows the trail of hair on Felix’s belly to where his cock usually hangs, smallish and unassuming when soft, with its generous droop of foreskin. In its place is a gentle mound, thickly dusted with dark hair. Carver slides his fingers between Felix’s legs to part them, and the brush of curls against his knuckles is humid with damp.

“Carv,” Felix breathes. “Oh Maker, that’s different.”

“What were you doing when I came in?” Carver wonders, rubbing the soft inner thigh in slow circles. It’s damp here too, and every brush of his wrist against Felix’s core sends a waft of pungent, salty-sweet aroma drifting to Carver’s nose.

“I was… ah… exploring. I’m so wet—it’s… unnerving.”

Carver smirks. “You ever bedded a woman, Fee?”

“Of course I have,” Felix returns, annoyed but too breathless to sound much like it. “A-a few times.”

“Poor things.”

“Shut up. It’s different, feeling this way yourself. My smalls are so _empty_ now. And every time I take a step I can feel the dampness between my thighs. It’s fucking _distracting_.” Felix gasps, breaking off as Carver grabs him by the waist and presses him back against the wall. “Carv?”

“Just stand there and look pretty, love.” He smirks at Felix’s dark look and bends to take one nipple in his mouth.

Felix cries out and immediately slaps a hand against his mouth. “Mmf! Keep doing that.”

Carver hums and sucks more of him into his mouth. The flesh is soft and pliable, and he rolls the stiff bud against his tongue, letting his teeth sink in lightly above and below. Felix tastes… different. Still salty with the day’s sweat, a little like cloves from his fancy Tevinter soap, but sweeter somehow. It’s likely just his imagination, but even so. He licks and sucks until Felix is writhing and clutching Carver’s shoulders, and then switches to the other one.

“Fucking Void,” Felix snarls, “Carver, I’m _ready_ , bloody touch me already!”

“Demanding,” Carver tuts, and bites softly at the flesh just below his left breast. “Part your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Felix whimpers at the endearment and does as he’s bid, shuffling a little lower against the wall as he widens his stance. Carver drops to his knees. He can smell him even more strongly here—the musk is heady, and he can’t help leaning in to press his nose to the softness of his belly.

“Do you have… other parts, too?” he asks, nuzzling back and forth to make his point. Felix’s hands rest lightly on his head and curl in his hair, tender.

“If you’re asking whether you can get me pregnant, the answer is no. I’m fairly sure.”

“Let’s not take chances, shall we?” Carver murmurs. His hand slides up Felix’s inner thigh and teases his curls, just barely parting his damp folds. The skin between is hot and slick and inviting; he strokes very carefully with a fingertip before sliding deeper along the groove, nudging the bud of his arousal with his knuckle. Felix is so slick and slippery that Carver’s fingers slide easily and deeply into his snug heat, and Felix cries out at the sudden invasion.

“Fuck!”

“Don’t you feel delicious,” Carver rumbles. He works his fingers back and forth in a gentle massage, marveling at how different Felix feels—still tight, but pliant and textured in a way his nether entrance isn’t. That gives him an idea. Withdrawing his hand, he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking away the taste. Felix stares down at him with his mouth agape and his eyes gone dark, watching as Carver gets all four fingers nice and wet with his saliva.

“What are you doing?” Felix whispers.

“Just wait. Come on, lean on me.” He coaxes Felix onto one leg and scoots the other lean thigh over his shoulder, opening him to Carver’s touch. His first two fingers slide in easily. Then, gently, he teases at the furled bud of his arsehole with his ring finger.

Felix tightens his grip on Carver’s hair. “Oh my Maker…”

“Okay?”

“Ungh, _yes_ , how can you even ask?” His voice is high and thready, eyes half-shut as Carver twists his wrist, working his fingers deeper into Felix’s body. The barrier between entrances in supple and sensitive, and each stroke has Felix begging for more. Then his ring finger rubs against a small, familiar place, and Carver whistles between his teeth.

“Maker, Fee. Two sweet spots in one body? No wonder you were going crazy.” His thumb brushes the apex of his slit and passes over the little nub hiding beneath the curls. “Make that three.”

“Carver, please, don’t tease me,” Felix rasps. He hooks his thigh harder around Carver’s shoulder, pulling him close. “I need it.”

“What do you need, sweet thing?” Carver croons as he teases that little bud.

“Your—your mouth, your tongue, _please_ Carv! Anything, I’ll do anything you ask—”

“Shhh. Don’t fret yourself, love, I’ll give you what you need.”

Felix is already a little off-balance, and it’s easy to scoop him up entirely and carry him to the bed. He sprawls out readily under Carver’s hungry eyes, drawing his knees up and back in a blatant display, one hand lifting to play idly with a pebbled nipple. He grins lazily at the growl that manifests in Carver’s chest. “Like what you see, handsome?” he purrs, and it’s a little bit ridiculous, but it’s also kind of hot. Carver pulls off his tabard and begins working on the buckles of his gambeson, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Let’s see if you can make yourself come with those clever fingers of yours.”

Felix hums and does as he’s bid. He plucks harder at his breasts with one hand, each in turn, and the other slinks down to rub slow, mesmerizing circles between his legs. He whimpers and groans beautifully—Felix has always been the noisier of the two of them, happy to  gasp and groan out his pleasure into the pillows or into Carver’s hair. Carver isn’t ashamed to admit he loves it. He loves it especially when Felix is doing it for _his_ benefit, as he is now. Felix works his hand faster and grabs at the sheets, the lovely flush on his face darkening to crimson as he nears his peak. Carver can hear the wet sounds of his fingers and he has to grab the base of his cock as he frees it from his trousers to keep from coming on the spot.

“Close, are you?” Felix gasps, and then he cries out, hips arching off the bed. Carver’s eyes burn from refusal to blink as he watches Felix’s fingers fly, his thighs tremble with strain—and then there’s a small spurt of clear fluid, and the wet sounds grow louder as his hand moves through the thin, colorless ejaculate now dripping onto the sheets.

“Holy Maker.” Carver kicks off the last of his clothes and scrambles onto the bed, bending his head for a taste. He nudges Felix’s fingers out of the way and his tongue probes his warm, saturated vulva eagerly. Felix moans and lets his thighs splay as wide as they’ll go, making room for Carver’s bulk.

“Please, Carv,” he whispers, still limp from one orgasm, but the effects of the spell combined with his Warden stamina means he’s ready for another almost immediately. Carver laves him open with his tongue, draws the inner labia into his mouth and sucks. Felix nearly screams when he finally probes the clitoris, still red and swollen from use, and Carver flicks it repeatedly until Felix is sobbing and coming again with a warm rush of fluid against his chin.

“Is that,” Felix gasps, “normal? Holy fuck, what is happening to me? I’m not—I’m not pissing on you, am I?”

Carver lips his lips and grins. “Not at all. It means I’m doing it right.” He shifts his weight, getting Felix’s legs over his shoulders. “You still good?”

“Be better if you stop talking and start sucking.”

“Your wish,” says Carver, and dives back in.

He’s never had much of a preference for men or women—bodies are bodies, and if he likes the person, chances are he likes the parts they’re attached to. Case in point. Sucking Felix off is one of his favorite past-times, and it turns out the equipment makes no difference. He loves it. He loves teasing Felix’s frenulum with the tip of his tongue and he loves tickling the hood of his clitoris with his teeth. He loves sucking on the foreskin and he loves probing his tongue as deep as it can go into the warm cavern between Felix’s legs. Licking arse he loves too, but he can do that whenever he likes, so he focuses a little higher: on the slippery patch of skin between bud and hole, on crooking his fingers just right inside Felix to elicit the most delicious noises, on sucking his clitoris in a rhythm that drives Felix insane with want.

He brings him to the edge and back three times, and when Felix is panting hoarsely, too dumbstruck to even speak, Carver shoves two fingers deep and rubs his thumb in quick, short jerks until Felix bows off the bed with a scream as he comes a third time, and then a fourth in quick succession. His cries echo off the walls and Carver could swear he hears someone banging on the door yelling at them to shut up, but he’s too immersed in smug satisfaction to pay them any mind.

“How you doing, sweet?” he breathes, tongue a little clumsy from being overworked. He slows his fingers to give Felix room to breathe, but Felix reaches down and grabs his wrist, trembling, demanding.

“Don’t stop,” he rasps. “Maker take you Carver, _don’t stop_.”

So he doesn’t. He ducks his chin to fuck him with his tongue and focuses his fingers in tight little circles, not too quick, but steady and implacable. Felix digs his toes into his back and tosses his head, arms straining up to grab hold of the headboard.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ Carver _yes_ Maker and Bride!” A steady stream of nonsense babbles from his mouth as Felix rocks his hips and shudders and comes, again, _again_ , until the natural slick his body provides begins to run dry, and Carver has to spit a thick wad of saliva where it’s needed to keep him from chafing. Felix is bright red from face to belly, sweating profusely, but he grabs Carver’s hair when he hesitates and shoves him back down between his legs. And Carver goes.

He comes, eventually, somewhere between Felix’s eighth and ninth orgasm, but it’s lost in the haze of his lover’s heady taste. But when Felix finally releases him, hoarse from screaming, he’s still hard in spite of the seed smeared on the sheets. He lurches up, shaking mightily, and Felix melts into the bedding with a blissful smile.

“C’mere, tiger,” he says, tugging clumsily at Carver’s hips. He straddles Felix with careful movements, terrified of crushing him, and bends to smear their mouths together. “Carv…”

“Yeah?”

Felix’s hand closes tentatively around his cock. “Come on my tits?”

Carver doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan, and what comes out instead is a garbled mess of both. “Fucking Void, sweetheart, you’re going to kill me. Yeah. Yeah, I wanna come on your tits, you dirty bastard.”

Felix just smiles, a lazy, sultry curl of his lips and a teasing flick of his tongue. His hand is slick around Carver’s girth, tugging in quick, short strokes, and it’s enough. Carver dips his chin and watches dizzily as his cock spits out a few dribbles of white onto Felix’s chest. One streak pearls prettily on the dark flesh of a nipple, and Carver pinches it roughly to clean it. Felix bucks a little under him, groaning.

“No more, love, I can’t,” he whispers, and Carver crawls off him, bends to lick him clean and then to kiss him, clumsy and tasting of skin and salt. Felix isn’t sweet anymore, but that’s all right—the memory of it still lingers like honey on his tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is silly, but I had fun! Hope you did too haha.


End file.
